The Darkness and the Light
by Desdinova
Summary: A story to tie Seasons 01 and 02 together better. Gold star and a cookie if you identify who the mystery digimon is. :D
1. The Darkness and the Light Part I

Myotismon sipped blood from a finely chiselled crystal goblet, and moodily watched the moon rise in full silver radiance. Light from the windows before him cut through the darkness that shrouded him. His face, a white porcelain mask of hauteur, stood out in startling relief against the shadows. A chill breeze stirred the gossamer curtains, dishevelling his pale blond hair. He paid the distraction scant attention, his mind absorbed on other matters. What did it matter? None of it was real, after all.  
  
With cold detachment, he watched as his fingers tightened around the bowl of the goblet, until the fragile glass shattered into knifelike shards and the contents spattered all round in a ruby spray. He noted that a sliver had driven deep into the flesh of his palm. Rather than pluck it out, he flexed his hand experimentally, testing his response. A mild, brief flash of heat, and an odd pang of sharpness which quickly vanished. His brows furrowed in displeasure, as he pulled the splinter out and threw it carelessly away. No pain that could be called that. Instead, it was the dull, vaguely recalled sensation of a long-forgotten injury.  
  
An idle gesture on his part; one of impatience. He examined the goblet, now whole and filled once more, filled with the precious red fluid he had once used to sustain his life. Likewise his hand bore no trace of any injury.  
  
How utterly futile. His life no longer held any purpose. He now needed nothing. Here he existed, and would continue to exist, for as long as the mainframe maintained this mockery of reality. A reflection without a form, neither truly alive or dead, with the capacity to act but not to feel. More than anything else, he hungered for real sensation. Pleasure or pain, he didn't care--so long as it was real. Yes, there were things far worse than dying, such as this simulacrum of life. Maybe there was such a thing as Hell.  
  
A woman's voice cut through his reverie, one he recognized immediately.  
  
"So, the great Myotismon has been reduced to this," sneered Lady Devimon, as she slipped forth from the shadows, black wings half-furled.  
  
Myotismon did not move. "I see you fared no better, my lady," he said. "So what brings you to my humble abode? Here to share your happiness with me?"  
  
Lady Devimon turned to him, her expression one of malignity, frustration and bitter defeat. "I have nowhere else to be," she said. Was that a trace of humility in her voice, however unlikely? wondered Myotismon.  
  
"Better to suffer my presence than to be alone, do you mean, Lady Devimon?", pursued Myostismon smoothy. "Well, you do not have long to wait, I am quite sure. Your master will --"  
  
"Our master, do you not mean?" cried Lady Devimon. "Do not give yourself airs, Myotismon!"  
  
Myotismon ignored her. "Your master will be here shortly." He lifted his glass in a sardonic toast, before downing the contents.  
  
"Piedmon will never be defeated!" snapped Lady Devimon. "His power is more than great enough to--"  
  
"To prevent the ignominy of being destroyed by a pack of sniveling, mewling brats? Something we ourselves could not avoid?"  
  
"How dare you even consider yourself his equal?" Lady Devimon gasped. "You, who failed so utterly in your insane quest to rule both the Digiverse and the real world? A mere underling?"  
  
"I was never Piedmon's servant, Lady Devimon. Regardless of what you or anyone else thought." Myotismon turned to face Lady Devimon. "As for Piedmon, what can I say? His capacity to overlook the obvious is almost legendary." He shrugged and continued tersely. "But I think at this point that neither your opinion or mine counts for anything. Or have you forgotten where we now dwell?"  
  
Lady Devimon fell silent, her face devoid of any expression. Only her glowing scarlet eyes showed emotion; hate, anger, bitter resentment. If looks could kill--if they were not already dead, Myotismon felt he would have been blasted to dust. His attention strayed to the window. The faintest glimmerings of pseudodawn illuminated the horizon, turning the sable to clear blue. Already streaks of red reflected against the clouds. Myotismon sighed, and rose from his throne. "Your pardon, my lady, but it is late and I must retire. Until nightfall?"  
  
Lady Devimon ignored him pointedly, staring off into the synthetic sunrise. No reply, but Myotismon had expected none. He strode from the room, seeking his coffin, and the illusionary security of familiar things. So much work for no real reason. As he walked slowly through the silent stone corridors, eyes taking note of every detail; the irregularity of the granite paving, the perfect smoothness of the spiral staircase that took him down to his crypt. So much work, and for nothing. As he climbed into his casket and reclined upon his cold satin bed, it occurred to him that he had no need of rest or sleep, or was he likely to ever again. He dismissed the notion, and settled himself in, lowering the lid. Anything is preferable to this state of existence, he thought drowsily. Even dreams are more real than this.  
  
  
  
He closed his eyes. Sleep took him swiftly.  
  
  
  
For a time he drifted, only marginally aware of himself. Here, there was neither darkness or light, hot or cold, silence or sound. Neither Heaven or Hell existed here, Earth or Digiverse. Hopes, ambitions, fears, angers; all gone. Here, for a time his tortured soul knew peace.  
  
  
  
Something drew him back.  
  
  
  
A high-pitched laugh was the first sound Myotismon heard. He knew that voice, too. It was the eighth digidestined child, Hikari. He opened his eyes. A small room, filled with brightly colored things, posters of puppies and kittens. It was a warm place, filled with light and icons of childish happiness. Myotismon felt deeply uneasy.  
  
Kari sprawled across her narrow bed, absorbed in reading a comic book, oblivious to his presence. Her light brown hair caught sunlight streaming through the window, lightening it to ash-gold. Now and then, she giggled. Myotismon stared at her through narrowed eyes. Venomous anger snaked through him as he gazed on her young, untroubled face. Ah yes, he knew. The one who brought me to this wretched state.  
  
He knelt beside the bed, reached one finger to place under her chin, raising her face to his. He took note of the sharply indrawn breath, the widened eyes, the dilated pupils. The fact that her face had gone pallid at the sight of him pleased him highly. Human blood tastes best with a dash of fear, he thought and laughed inwardly.  
  
"I see that you have not forgotten me," said Myotismon. "And, as you can plainly see, I have not forgotten you."  
  
"No," answered Kari, her voice a whisper. "But why did you come back?"  
  
Her simple direct question took Myotismon aback. In truth, he didn't know what his purpose there was. Hunger for revenge still burned within him, but there was something else.  
  
"Maybe I came to see you," said Myotismon, with eel-like charm. His crimson lips contorted in a cynical twist into something that resembled a smile. In the back of his mind, a plan was taking shape.  
  
Kari nodded silently, her eyes never leaving his face.  
  
"Will you come with me, talk with me for awhile?" said Myotismon. His ice blue eyes stared into Kari's warm brown ones.  
  
"Will you promise not to hurt anyone if I do?" asked Kari warily. She curled up, thin arms wrapping around herself reflexively.  
  
"I give my word. Now, come with me." Myotismon extended a gloved hand to her.  
  
Kari swallowed visibly, then slipped her small hand into his. Though her face was resolute, Myotismon could feel her tremble. His sneer widened.  
  
"Not here, however," he continued. "If you will allow me...?" As Kari gasped, Myotismon concentrated on a distant point, focused...  
  
They both vanished.  
  
  
  
Myotismon looked around at his mansion, utterly still, chilling breezes wafting through the hallways. The faint scent of dust and decay pervaded the gloom. Moonlight spilled through the vaulted windows, bathing the chamber in pallid radiance, creating twisted shadows that seemed to move of their own accord.  
  
"I don't believe you've had the privilege of seeing my home, but then few have," said Myotismon, brows furrowed slightly as he surveyed his domain with a critical eye. "Consider yourself honored in this."  
  
Kari looked even smaller than usual, both hands clasped around something she wore on a chain around her neck. Myotismon supposed it to be the crest that marked her to be one of the Digidestined.  
  
"I suppose you want to know why I brought you here," said Myotismon. "You must know how badly you thwarted my ambitions, and revenge does have its merits."  
  
"You promised not to hurt anyone," said Kari.  
  
"This is true. I did promise not to hurt anyone, including you," assured Myotismon. He took a step closer, staring down at her, relishing the feeling of utter superiority his far greater size gave him. "But that does not mean you are safe."  
  
Kari did not answer. A tiny frown wrinkled the smooth brow, as her eyes gazed off into the distance, seeking something not visible to Myotismon. Slowly she turned, spoke to him. "Is anyone ever really safe?" Her questioning eyes sought his, demanded an answer.  
  
Myotismon blinked in astonishment at the unexpected reply. Inwardly he began to seethe. He had waited so long for this moment. Now that his chance had come, a mere child was frustrating him.  
  
"Do not mock me," said Myotismon. Anger started to fuel other desires. He felt control of the situation slip away from him. "Vengeance is not the only thing that I would savor right now."  
  
"But I didn't mean--"  
  
Unthinking, he swept her into his arms, hunger lashing painfully into him. He could almost taste it, the sweet-salt tang of her blood, the heat, the purity. His mouth instinctively sought her throat. Anything to ease the wildness within him, appease the never-ending thirst. Anything.  
  
Kari stared up at him, liquid brown eyes filled with a child's anger and betrayal. "You promised," she cried. "You promised!"  
  
"Do you think mere words will stop me?" hissed Myotismon. "Have you forgotten who I am!" His scarlet lips parted, revealing fangs sharp as knives. Unnoticed, his fingers dug into her soft flesh, hard enough to bruise. So close. His need grew unbearable.  
  
Kari did not struggle, or cry out, as she might. Her eyes remained fixed on his face. Nothing, no fear. Only that smoldering contemptuous look of accusation.  
  
Myotismon stopped. Something prevented him. The only thing that stood between him and sating himself fully on her life's blood was her strength of will and a promise lightly made. "I am Myotismon! I take what I want, and I live forever!"  
  
Kari's eyes never wavered. Her lips never moved, but he could hear the words, nonetheless. They mocked him. You promised, you promised, you promised...  
  
Myotismon's fury and frustration grew to a white-hot pitch. More than anything, he longed to break free, to release the beast within him. She was a tiny human child. He could break her in two, if he wanted, or rip her throat out, and devour the blood as it cascaded over him in a hot scarlet wash. He could do anything he wanted to her. Anything at all.  
  
No. He could not. It was a lie, and he knew it. Even in his frenzy, she had bested him, without effort. Her body was weak, but her spirit was inviolable. It was not a digidestined child he held in his arms, it was a tiny fortress of indomitable will.  
  
An alien emotion grew within him, unpleasant and cold. Strange metallic taste in his mouth, overpowering his craving, leaving him cold and utterly empty. Not hunger. It was fear.  
  
He dropped Kari and took a step back. She lay on the floor, a mere scrap of a girl. Her eyes never left his face.  
  
With an odd choked sound, he spun on his heel, and dissolved back into the void.  
  
  
  
Myotismon woke to painful, savage hunger, coursing through his body. He rose swiftly, and ascended the long spiral staircase, his mind clear. He knew what he needed. As he passed from the antechamber into the great hall, he saw Lady Devimon, looking at him, as always, both lost and enraged. Myotismon pictured a cornered albino rat. Perfect, he thought.  
  
"Let me guess," she snapped, not bothering with a greeting, as Myotismon approached her. "You want something from me."  
  
"Why, Lady Devimon, how perceptive of you," said Myotismon, bearing down on her, hand extended. She took a wary step back-- Too late.  
  
He seized her by one wrist, pulling her into his arms. One hand knotted a fist in her hair, jerking her head to one side. He could not hear the stream of epithets that burst in a furious poisoned flow from her, as he opened his mouth and dug his fangs into her throat. Fluid gushed down his throat; a tainted ichor, unpleasantly slippery that savored of rot and age. His hunger goaded him, even as it robbed him of reason. It all seemed so simple. She struggled. He fed.  
  
Long moments passed in frenzied stillness, as he drank his fill. His appetite gradually unwound from him, slipping away, leaving him with a faint vile taste in his mouth, clutching an enraged demoness to his chest.  
  
Lady Devimon shoved him off, one hand pressed to the wound. Her hand lashed out, slapping him across one patrician cheek. talons gouging into the cold flesh. The sound of impact was thin, the sensation, though briefly fierce, was fleeting. Even this lacks credibility, he thought bitterly. He had hoped that her fury would have made a difference.  
  
"If you were not already dead, you bastard, I would have killed you for that," Lady Devimon ground out, thin lips narrowed to a line. She seemed ready to attack.  
  
Myotismon shrugged in exquisite indifference, as he wiped her black blood off his lips. Pointless stupid thing to do. But it restored him to himself once more, brought him back into equillibrium, so that he could think and see things clearly. "But I am already dead," said Myotismon. "And I am as incapable of harming you as you are of me."  
  
Lady Devimon stopped as the point sank in, and her hands dropped to her side. She laughed, hard peals of vicious sound. "Was that supposed to mean something, Myotismon? Either your words or the pathetic show you staged for me?"  
  
"Oh, shut up, you cow," snarled Myotismon, and stalked off into the mansion, sable cloak billowing behind him. Her brittle laughter followed him out of the chamber, splintering into a spray of icy echoes. Like the shattering of a crystal goblet, he noted.  
  
He refused to let her derision goad him, and turned his mind forcibly to other matters. Despite this, his mood grew fouler. It didn't help that there was no particular place he wanted to be because there was no better place to be. He didn't want to spend an eternity, such as it was, sleeping.  
  
Something gnawed at him.  
  
He recalled Lady Devimon with stark clarity. A pallid harpy in torn, buckled and strapped cyberpunk black leather garb, she seemed the very epitome of a herald of digidestruction. He pictured her as he had first seen her; tattered black bat wings, dead white cobweb fine hair and clammy skin, and eyes too used to scorn, too hard to weep. Lips that were too jaded to do anything but smirk. Out of nowhere, an odd thought sprang up, and he found himself wondering if she had ever truly smiled in her entire existence.  
  
Somehow he doubted it. She was too much like himself. 


	2. The Darkness and the Light Part II

He woke from a dream he would never remember, slipping from his coffin even as he opened the lid. He opened his eyes and, for one brief instant, looked into the unknown. The cold stone walls and floors, the vast vaulted chamber--were utterly alien to him. The weight of shadows was oppressive. His eyes widened, searching for something, anything at all recognizable, and finding nothing. A chasm opened within him, threatening to suck what little he was into nothingness. I am not myself! thought he. Who--what--am I?  
  
Myotismon shook his head, blinked. He was aware of himself once more. Memories, his own memories, were there again. The moment of amnesia was gone, and try as he might, he could not recall it. He drew himself to his full height, banishing any lingering dread to the furthest reaches of his being. Eternity will be a Hell, indeed, if I am not to enjoy the simple luxury of being allowed to be myself, came the grim thought.  
  
A bad dream, that was all. He had been having too many of them of late.  
  
  
  
He ascended the spiral staircase in silence, deep in thought. As he crossed the great chamber, he noted with something that bordered on relief that Lady Devimon was not present. Her never-ending hostility, entertaining as it was, had begun to wear on his nerves.  
  
Silver moonlight spilled through the windows, as it did every night. A breath of wind turned dust into a scintillating cloud of tiny sprites, a courtly dance performed to the music of the spheres.  
  
His lips twisted without humor. Here he reigned in his lordly palace- -over no one, save himself, and the moon that slipped past his windows through starry skies. An endless procession of the sun and moon chasing each other through the sky, each cycle marking off another night, virtually indistinguishable from the one before it, or the one to follow. Grim bare gray stone inside, lifeless barren crags outside. That there were no bars on the windows did not make it any less a prison.  
  
Emptiness threatened to swallow him whole. He became keenly aware of space, hollow vastness that reduced every sound to sibilant echoes. Once there was not enough space in both worlds for his ambitions. Now he had an empire, without limit or bounds, and the very emptiness of it served only to make him more insignificant in his own eyes.  
  
He opened the window, and let the cool night wind flow over him, riffling through his hair. It slipped in, insinuating into every crevice, every corner, laden with the scent of rain-washed wastelands. Tendrils of fog began to coalesce, forming patchy wraiths, drifting.  
  
He looked up toward the sky, and remembered how he had once been told that the moon, radiant queen of the night, was only a barren sphere of airless rock, reflecting the rays of the sun. No light or life of its own. He preferred to think of it otherwise. The thought of existing as a vessel without a purpose of its own, struck a chord of desolation within his leaden heart more painful than fear.  
  
Whatever else, he could not bear to think that he might be lonely.  
  
  
  
Myotismon wandered, letting instinct guide him. Boredom forced him to contemplate his surroundings. Here were rustling trees, and grasses that sang a whispered lament to the wind. Ahead of him was a small lake, moonlight rippling lazily across its surface. He could hear waves lapping ceaselessly against the shore.  
  
He drew closer to the lake, drawn by its tranquil beauty. This place knew nothing of him, or did it care. Nothing here to remind him of his unlamented past, or his deeply humiliating failure. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of water and earth and sky. It did not matter that it was not real. For a time he was content to simply be.  
  
Odd. Myotismon saw yellow lights shine upwards from the surface of the water, into the jet-black sky. Against all reason, a passage had opened in the surface of the lake. An improbable corridor led downwards into the water, toward the light. Drawn by the allure of the unknown, he descended.  
  
Below him was a small house, done in Japanese dojo style. Myotismon stopped in amazement at the unlikely sight. Paths paved with flagstones led to a formal rock garden, complete with a small stream, and a faithful copy of the rainbow bridge. Flowering trees dropped petals in a spray of pastel confetti. In the distance, a nightingale trilled unseen, silvered liquid notes pouring forth.  
  
As Myotismon advanced to the ground, he espied a wizened man, dressed in the silken garb of Japanese nobility. Bald, save for a grey ponytail that sprang from the top of his head, and clean-shaven, but for a large moustache, the man moved with quiet deliberation, stopping now and then to arrange something--a branch or stone--to his satisfaction. He paused to raise a pale blossom to his nose.  
  
"I have been expecting you, Myotismon," said the man, without turning.  
  
  
  
"Who are you?" said Myotismon, brows furrowed deeply in displeasure. "And how do you know my name?"  
  
"My name is Gennai," answered the old man, who turned to peer up at him. "Why shouldn't I know who you are? I know everyone who lives here."  
  
Myotismon had heard of such a being, but never gave it thought. At the time, it was of no importance. For the first time, he began to wonder just how much had escaped his notice.  
  
Gennai looked at him, eyes focused on Myotismon acutely. Something about the intense scrutiny, the long drawn-out silence disturbed Myotismon greatly, though he could see no reason to be.  
  
At last Gennai spoke. "Myotismon, who are you?"  
  
The question seemed preposterous. "I am Myotismon," stated Myotismon, brows furrowed deeply in displeasure. "You just said so yourself. Isn't that obvious enough for you?"  
  
Gennai smiled, an expression of quirky humor. "Well, yes and no. What you are is no mystery to me, but I did not ask that." He paused, watching Myotismon's face as it passed from anger to confusion. "No, the question is not what you are, but who you are. Can you answer that, Myotismon?"  
  
Myotismon snarled silently, but said nothing.  
  
"You are Myotismon, true," continued Gennai, his voice almost gentle. "But just because you are Myotismon does not mean that there can be no others.  
  
Myotismon's jaw dropped. The thought had never occurred to him. One of many. He grimly hung onto the one thing he knew in his life--who he really was.  
  
Once he was Myotismon, who was destined to rule, both the real and the digital worlds. Now, he was nothing. Gone, forgotten, lost; victim of his own ambition.  
  
"Can't answer that, can you?" said Gennai, with a chuckle. "Most people can't."  
  
"Why should I?", snapped Myotismon. "I don't see how that concerns you, old fool."  
  
"I'm sure you don't, Myotismon," answered Gennai, fixing Myotismon with a reproving glance for his impertinence. "However, everything around here concerns me. Including your welfare, if you are interested."  
  
Myotismon's brows furrowed deeper, his temper beginning to fray.  
  
"Do not think I have not noticed your restlessness of late, Myotismon. The general sense of purposelessness. You now have all of eternity before you, and have nothing better to do than haunt your own castle." Gennai saw Myotismon's jaw drop open, and continued. "No, do not deny it. I have seen it for myself."  
  
Myotismon wanted to deny it. He could not, and stood, seething in impotent fury and frustration. The simple truth of each statement struck deeply into the heart of all his troubles, leaving him painfully silent.  
  
"Come now. Is it to be wondered, Myotismon?", said Gennai, studying a camellia bush, now laden with pink flowers. "You were never anything but the tool of another's evil will. Now that the master has been defeated, his puppets have been forgotten. What you once were no longer matters. Your problem now is that you are now an entity without an identity--at least not one of your own making." Gennai plucked a camellia blossom. Myotismon glanced over, and briefly noted the simple elegance of shape, the harmony of shell pink of the petals with the bright gold of the stamens.  
  
"Do you think you have not changed at all?" murmured Gennai absently. "The Myotismon I once knew would never have bothered to admire a flower. Ambition at any cost was his only thought."  
  
Myotismon glared at Gennai, lips curled into a sneer. "What difference could it possibly make to you either who or what I am? Why do you care?"  
  
Gennai fell silent for a time. "That would be hard to say, Myotismon. I don't think any answer I could give you would satisfy you at this time. But the problem is not me, but you." A smile crinkled the corners of his mouth. "Like Gepetto the puppetmaker's creation, you wish to become real. Do you not?"  
  
"Who is this Gepetto?" asked Myotismon, eyes narrowed in suspicion.  
  
"An old Earth story. Never mind...I should not have mentioned it," said Gennai. "The only important thing is that you must make your own destiny now--If you don't want to spend the rest of eternity here, that is."  
  
Myotismon listened in stony silence, his face set in a sardonic expression. "I see," he said, his voice cold and flat.  
  
"There is nothing I can do for you at this moment," said Gennai. "Later on, you will understand. At that time, I will expect to see you again, here."  
  
"I see no reason to return," snarled Myotismon. "You told me nothing I did not already know."  
  
The old man was unperturbed. "I told you because you needed to hear it. In your case, that was reason enough." Gennai's attention strayed toward a bank of azaleas, laden with glowing carmine flowers. Without another word, he wandered away. "Soon you will know."  
  
Myotismon, furious at Gennai's off-handedness, started to speak. He did not like being summarily dismissed, as if he were a lackey, or being played for a fool.  
  
But Gennai was gone.  
  
  
  
Myotismon stared balefully into the face of his executioners once more. Eight children stared back at him, pale faces resolute. His eyes locked on Angewomon, the celestial being who was once his servant and ally, now his assassin. There was always something he didn't like in her eyes. But he had never imagined it would be anything like this.  
  
Angewomon, clad in gleaming white and gold, drew back her bow, a shining arrow of light aimed at Myotismon's heart. Angemon hovered nearby, mouth set in a thin grim line. It would be worth dying a second time, just to get away from the sanctimony both angels seemed to ooze, like pus from an infection. Despite knowledge of his certain doom, Myotismon smiled. Never would he show fear to the likes of them, or remorse. They had no idea what it meant to be him, driven toward a destiny now lost to him forever. Nor was his death murder, not to them. To them, he was simply evil. For him, there would be no mourning or grief, only annihilation.  
  
His amusement visibly disturbed the Digidestined, who reacted in fear or anger. Save for one. Kari, the one who bore the crest of light, the one he had tried so desperately to kill. Her expression was somber, eyes filled inexplicably with sadness. The very idea was troubling, that she, alone of all, would feel sorrow for him.  
  
His attention returned to Angewomon. Stupid bitch, who presumed to judge him. Out of spite, he laughed even as she let fly the arrow. It was the only weapon he had left.  
  
He was still laughing as the arrow struck.  
  
  
  
Myotismon stood once more in his mansion, one shadow among many, the memory of dying fresh in his mind. His dreams were too painfully real, far more so that what passed for reality. The white-hot sensation of the holy arrow as it tore through his chest, into his heart. Rawness of agony, radiating outward from the impalement, cut mercifully short. The shock and disbelief, the keen bitterness of defeat.  
  
Fleeting seconds, so quick to pass, that seemed to last an eternity, etched indelibly into his memory.  
  
Myotismon's head throbbed dully, close enough to a headache to both distract and annoy him. He concentrated, seeking a distraction from his cares. Seconds later, a slight noise drew his attention. He turned to see a young human woman slip into the room, dark-haired and slim, bewilderment evident in her expression. Her eyes darted to his face, then to the moonlit chamber. He took note of the delicate form, the apprehensiveness of her demeanor, the slight tremble of her shoulders. With a cold smile, he advanced to the woman's side. "You look troubled, my dear."  
  
She glanced briefly up at him. "I-I don't know where I am..." Tears glimmered in the corners of her eyes. "Please...please help me?"  
  
Myotismon opened his cloak to wrap the woman in its folds. She froze, mouth open in a frightened gasp. He placed a finger across her lips to quiet her, letting his fingertip trail down her chin, to brush the softness of her throat. "Do not fear. Everything will be all right."  
  
She blinked, and looked at him, eyes widening in surprise. Myotismon drew her closer, taking complete control of both her mind and body. It was what she really wanted, after all. He could almost taste the desire that lay so close to the surface. Desire, mingled with a dash of fear. With an inaudible sigh, she gave herself to him, her body moulding itself against his. How sweet, this remembered moment of utter surrender.  
  
Myotismon laughed, as his mouth fastened greedily onto the woman's throat.  
  
  
  
"Getting sentimental, Myotismon?" Lady Devimon viewed the pair with contempt she made no effort to conceal, as she strode into the great hall.  
  
Myotismon, disturbed from his reminiscence, glanced to the silent form lying on the table. There was no reason to keep the body of his 'victim' around. She was only the reenactment of a memory, as unreal and insubstantial as everything else. But it suited him to have her body near. Perhaps to remind himself of what he once was.  
  
"I find her better company, for one," said Myotismon, matching venom for venom. "She knows when and how to remain silent."  
  
Lady Devimon's lips thinned unpleasantly, an expression devoid of mirth. "No doubt. But I would far rather deal with you than any construct. I have no wish to be master of a kingdom of illusions. You, at least, are real."  
  
Myotismon winced; the point had not escaped him. "Be that as it may." He gestured carelessly, and the woman's body was gone. "Enjoy your moment of victory, such as it is. As you and I know quite well, it will have to last for a very long time."  
  
He ignored her, and strode out of the room, not bothering to wait for a response. It was getting to be tedious, this business of walking out on Lady Devimon, when he didn't like what she had to say. Everything was tedious, and only going to be more so. Perhaps it was in his best interest to make peace with her.  
  
Dawn showed in glimmers of crimson on the horizon, as Myotismon sank into his bed. Fatigue pulled him, without resistance, into the satin. Not that he was tired, or could he ever be. The very burden of his existence weighed upon him.  
  
As sleep claimed him, he perceived the kindness that lay behind Lady Devimon's acid words. He wondered if any of it was intentional. 


	3. The Darkness and the Light Part III

Myotismon idled on his throne, sipping from his goblet, savoring the taste of a victim, long-forgotten to him. He did not need it, and never would again. But the fleshy garnet-red fluid reminded him of what and who he was. The sky was fast fading, from jet to midnight blue. Soon the sun would rise, bathing the stark landscape in harsh light. Not that that mattered either.  
  
"Myotismon. It has been a long time."  
  
Myotismon pivoted abruptly at the sound of the voice he had never thought to hear again. He rose from his seat to stare at the short figure clad in a voluminous grey cloak, and wide brimmed witches' hat. "Wizardmon."  
  
Wizardmon nodded and said nothing.  
  
The two stood, as the stony silence lengthened, neither taking his eyes off the other. "I suppose you've come here to demand an apology," said Myotismon, a trace of a sneer threading through his words.  
  
"No," said Wizardmon.  
  
Myotismon frowned. "Then I suppose I should expect an apology from you."  
  
Wizardmon smiled. "No."  
  
"Then why did you come here, apart from revenge? It could not have been to reminisce over old times," asked Myotismon,  
  
"Maybe I came to see you," answered Wizardmon simply. "I had heard that you were here."  
  
"I see," said Myotismon, his impatience mounting.  
  
"No, I don't think you do," said Wizardmon.  
  
"And what makes you so sure you know anything about me anymore?" snapped Myotismon. "It's been a long time, and people do change."  
  
"You don't trust me at all, do you?" asked Wizardmon.  
  
"I have no reason to," replied Myotismon, his voice curt, his words terse and clipped. "You died because you betrayed me. Do I need to remind you of that?"  
  
"I died to save another's life," said Wizardmon. "Something you could not begin to understand--the need to sacrifice one's self for something far greater and more important." He smiled, though his eyes were sad. "But you never regarded anything outside of yourself to be of any importance that did not get you what you wanted."  
  
Myotismon said nothing.  
  
"Was it worth it?," continued Wizardmon. "The suffering on so many people's part, the needless death and destruction?"  
  
"I do not need to justify my actions to the likes of you," sneered Myotismon. "My destiny--"  
  
"Ah, yes. You spoke those words before. Your 'destiny', to rule both the real and the digital world. If not for the fact that it clearly was not your destiny, you might have succeeded, too. But what if you had?"  
  
"What foolishness is this? 'What if I had?'", snarled Myotismon. "The answer is clear. I would now be ruler over both realms, with millions of slaves to do my bidding, not answering your idiotic questions." He took a step toward Wizardmon. "Is that all? You're beginning to bore me."  
  
"Not a difficult thing to do, it seems," said Wizardmon, with a wicked chuckle. "But what then?"  
  
Myotismon stared down at the slight figure, face hidden from view. Only bright grey-green eyes showed, staring back into his with an intensity he could not fathom.  
  
"You mean plunging both worlds into eternal darkness is not enough for you?" asked Myotismon, venom dripping from every word.  
  
"No," said Wizardmon. "What I mean is that it would not be enough for you. This scheme of world domination was never yours."  
  
"And I suppose you're going to tell me that my entire existence was simply to serve the needs of another, greater evil?"  
  
"I don't need to tell you anything you already know, do I?" answered Wizardmon. "Even VenomMyotismon's destructiveness was nothing compared to Apocalymon's. The Digidestined were extremely fortunate in destroying him as they did. What, if anything, do you know of him?"  
  
"Does it matter? You'll only tell me anyway," said Myotismon. "So get on with it."  
  
"The truth seems to be that Apocalymon created not only you, but Devimon, MetalSeadramon and Machinedramon. No accident that he possessed all of your powers, and some of his own."  
  
"So why are you telling me this?" asked Myotismon, seething with impatience. "If there is a point, I fail to see it."  
  
"Not surprising," answered Wizardmon. "It is easy not to see the things you don't agree with. What I have been trying to say, as has Gennai, is that it doesn't matter where you came from, but where you're going, that matters most. So what are you going to do next?"  
  
Myotismon did not answer. He was not about to reveal anything to his former ally, now his sworn enemy.  
  
"You cannot stay here forever, or remain as you are always," said Wizardmon. "It is true that you have a destiny to fulfill. But by no means is it the one you once imagined. You have more important things to do."  
  
"Did you come here just to tell me that?" snapped Myotismon.  
  
"I did not come here at all, Myotismon," said Wizardmon. "What you see of me is a small part of what I once was. I created this simulacrum to wait for you, upon the event of your death."  
  
Myotismon was startled. "Why?"  
  
Wizardmon was slow to respond. "I'm not sure why myself. Perhaps it is out of loyalty, which you were too quick to dismiss. Or perhaps it is that having found redemption, and the reward it brings, I would wish it for you, too. There is something to be said for caring and trust, neither of which you have ever experienced."  
  
"Caring and trust?" spat Myotismon, each word a searing drop of acid intended to burn. "I am not human. What need would I have of such things?"  
  
"A blind man may scorn a rainbow, but until he has experienced it in all its marvel, his scorn is meaningless." Wizardmon gave Myotismon a long measured look. "Before long, the emptiness within you will devour you completely. You must fill that void before it erases you."  
  
Myotismon's eyes narrowed. "What makes you think that I am in any peril?"  
  
Wizardmon was not deceived. "Can you not feel it even now? The utter sense of nothingness growing within you?"  
  
"How do you know this?" demanded Myotismon. "I spoke of this to no one."  
  
"You forget. I am part of the system itself now. Everything about me, and you too, is nothing more than computer data."  
  
"That is hardly new to me," said Myotismon, his temples pounding in a good simulation of a headache. "What is your point?"  
  
"If you were an inactive file, nothing would happen to you. You would continue on for as long as your data existed unmolested. But you are an active file. What you were is passing away, without anything to take its place. The humans would call it data degradation." Wizardmon looked away, then back at Myotismon squarely. "I would call it a slow, certain complete death, one without hope of resurrection."  
  
"I see," said Myotismon, voice dry and curt once more. "So it seems my condition is terminal."  
  
"An interesting and apt way of putting it," said Wizardmon. "But yes."  
  
Myotismon fell silent, his eyes intently focused inward. An unpleasant smile thinned his lips. "Why do you care?"  
  
Wizardmon was plainly puzzled. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I mean," said Myotismon, "that it would seem to be the answer to a number of problems if I simply ceased to be. My role is finished; I have no real purpose anymore. So why are you trying to reform me?"  
  
Wizardmon, too, fell silent. "I could give you any number of answers, Myotismon," he said slowly, measuring each word carefully. "And all of them would be true to a degree. But the real reason is that I care about you, and see much more inside you than the monster you used to be."  
  
"Can you really expect me to believe that?" scoffed Myotismon. Despite his habitual scorn, he found himself listening to Wizardmon more attentively.  
  
"No," answered Wizardmon, with characteristic simplicity. "Why should I when I could not convince you of anything in the past?" A smile flitted across his face, tinged with irony. "Whether it was in your best interest to believe me or not."  
  
"Spare me your sarcasm," snarled Myotismon.  
  
"No, not sarcasm, Myotismon, my old companion. Merely the truth."  
  
"Then what do you mean by that? Presuming you actually meant something by that," said Myotismon.  
  
"The meaning is quite clear, if you must know," replied Wizardmon. "If there is anything in you worth redeeming, it must be you who finds it."  
  
"And you persist in believing it exists, is that it?" Myotismon laughed, surly echoes skittering in all directions.  
  
"No," said Wizardmon. "I know it exists. But I cannot make you see what is so painfully evident to me. Only do not dawdle. Your time is slipping away even as we speak."  
  
"I see," said Myotismon.  
  
"No, Myotismon, you do not see. That is the problem." said Wizardmon.  
  
"Whatever you say," snapped Myotismon. The sky outside the window had paled to medium blue. "It is late. I think you can see yourself out."  
  
"As you wish, Myotismon," said Wizardmon, with a slight bow of his head, and the ghost of a smile, more felt than seen. Myotismon gave him a long, hard look. Insolent fool, he thought, and turned away from the growing light.  
  
  
  
Myotismon rose swiftly from his coffin, not wishing to dwell on his dreams. They were all there, waiting for him. His victims. Only now he was defenseless against them. Nowhere to run, no place to hide.  
  
A dull rumble resonated through the castle; thunder in the distance.  
  
As he passed through the Great Hall, a woman's voice called out to him. "Myotismon."  
  
Myotismon turned to look. Lady Devimon stared out the window, arms straight and rigid by her side. Black tattered leather wings rustled, furling and unfurling, over and over. She pivoted to face him.  
  
"I had hoped to see you," said Lady Devimon. Lightning from the window limned her face in brilliant relief, sculpted in stark black and white. "I had nothing better to do, you see."  
  
"Why, thank you," said Myotismon. "I had no idea you found me so vastly entertaining,"  
  
Lady Devimon did not react to his comment. Odd. Myotismon looked at her closely.  
  
"It becomes harder every day. Trying to find something to pass the time." Lady Devimon spoke softly, as if to herself. "Not that it matters. Nothing lasts. Nothing here is real. Like building castles in the sand, only to have the tide sweep them away, leaving the sand empty and bare. Over and over again." She raised her hands, then let them drop. "An utter waste of time. But time is the only thing I have now."  
  
A soft low-pitched moan filled the chamber, rose into a whistling shriek, as winds snaked through the empty corridors. Over the mountains, a storm front was approaching.  
  
"So many days of doing nothing. The endless hours," said Lady Devimon, her voice now tight as a coiled spring. "The endless hours, with none but the dead to keep me company," Pale lips thinned, a strained and lifeless expression. A tiny split appeared. "Eternal nothingness! Myotismon, how can you stand it?" Her voice broke.  
  
Myotismon took her by the shoulders. "Lady Devimon! Control yourself!"  
  
Lady Devimon stared up at him, red eyes blazing. Myotismon could feel her body tremble. She seemed both paler and smaller than he could recall. There was none of the cold hostility he had come to expect of her.  
  
"Myotismon, what's happening to me? What's happening to us?"  
  
"I don't know," said Myotismon, even as he remembered Wizardmon's warning, choosing to ignore it. He saw no reason to burden her needlessly with the truth.  
  
Lightning flashed, and the chamber was filled with brilliant white light. A snap of thunder followed, crashing and careening down into sullen rumbles that faded into the distance.  
  
"I can feel it--gnawing away at me. This growing sense of emptiness. Every day, there is less and less of me. And I can't stop it." A trickle of black ran unnoticed down Lady Devimon's chin from her lip. "Is it the same with you?"  
  
Myotismon could feel his own void stir within him. Here was irony. He, a demon of immortal hunger, was being consumed. "Yes. I feel it, too."  
  
Lady Devimon's head dropped. "I had hoped it was not so."  
  
Myotismon was startled. Such selflessness seemed beyond both of them. "How thoughtful of you."  
  
"Do not be so quick to hand me a halo," snapped Lady Devimon. She wiped the ichor from her face, staring down at the black fluid smeared across her fingers. A second later it was gone. "If I had to pick between the two of us to wish this condition on, I would not have chosen me. But since I am already afflicted, I see no reason to burden you with it, too."  
  
Myotismon merely nodded. "Why, Lady Devimon. I had no idea you cared."  
  
Lady Devimon's head snapped around. "Yes! You are the only thing real here. Despite yourself, you have been better to me than anyone else I have ever known. Why should I not care?" Her eyes flared brilliant crimson once more, her body rigid with sudden anger.  
  
Raindrops pelted the windows heavily, as rain fell in great sheets of water.  
  
"What! How can that be?" asked Myotismon. "I have done little but ignore you. When we talk, we do nothing but argue. You were Piedmon's most trusted lieutenant. Did you mean nothing to him?"  
  
"Piedmon's most trusted tool, do you not mean?" Lady Devimon's lips curled in disdain. "Don't be a fool. I had value to him only as long as I obeyed his every whim, and fulfilled his desires. Was it not so with your own slaves?"  
  
Myotismon looked away. "Yes." He remembered it well. Not the cruelty, but the utter disregard.  
  
"Then you must know what I mean," pursued Lady Devimon. "As arrogant and callous as you have been to me until now, I have been more of a person to you than I ever was to him." Her voice traile off into uneasy silence. "Myotismon, what is a 'friend'?"  
  
"I cannot say. The humans spoke often of them." Myotismon thought about it and shrugged. "Something to do with kindness and understanding."  
  
"You understand me as no one else does. And in your way, you have been kind to me," Lady Devimon's voice lowered, each word barely stirring the air. "Are we--friends?"  
  
"I don't know. I have neither had a friend, or have I ever been one."  
  
Lady Devimon stood utterly still. Her eyes never left Myotismon's face, moving over every inch as if mentally sculpting it. Myotismon could feel her gaze. She turned and paced slowly away.  
  
"Lady Devimon," said Myotismon. Lady Devimon turned to look.  
  
"Do you want a friend?" asked Myotismon. Lady Devimon listened in silence. "Do you want me for a friend?"  
  
"Yes," said Lady Devimon.  
  
"Then we are," answered Myotismon.  
  
Lady Devimon nodded. Without another word, she moved to the window, and opened it. Outside, the rain had slowed to a fine, even shower. She glanced back at Myotismon and hesitated. Her mouth opened, then closed without a sound. She seemed at a loss for words.  
  
"You're welcome," said Myotismon.  
  
Lady Devimon smiled. She stepped up into the window, and unfurling her wings, flew off into the storm.  
  
  
  
Myotismon stirred in his sleep. There was an insistent scratching, outside somewhere. A muffled voice spoke.  
  
"Boss! Hey, boss! You gonna sleep all night?"  
  
Myotismon's eyes opened. Demi Devimon?  
  
"Hey, boss! You in there?"  
  
Myotismon flung open the coffin lid. There was a loud yell, followed by a muffled thump.  
  
"Stop whimpering," snapped Myotismon, rising from the coffin. "Where have you been?"  
  
Demi Devimon fluttered up from the floor. "Boss! It's good to see you again!" He flew in dizzying circles around Myotismon's head.  
  
Myotismon closed his eyes. "Demi Devimon."  
  
"Yes, boss?"  
  
"Please stop that."  
  
Demi Devimon blinked in astonishment, and promptly flew into a wall. He picked himself up. "Boss! Are you feeling okay? Did you just say 'please' to me?"  
  
Yes!" Myotismon stared at the little bat-shaped digimon. "Now answer my question!"  
  
"I've been looking for you, boss," said Demi Devimon.  
  
"Demi Devimon." Myotismon fixed Demi Devimon with an icy stare.  
  
"Yes, boss?" said Demi Devimon.  
  
"Why did it take so long?"  
  
Demi Devimon peered up at his former master, fidgeting. "Well, ummm...I ran into some people, ummm..."  
  
Myotismon raised an eyebrow.  
  
"Pumpkinmon and Gotsumon," explained Demi Devimon. "You know those guys."  
  
"I do indeed," answered Myotismon, voice droll. "They used to work for me."  
  
"Yeah! We were hangin' out, and kinda remembering old times...you know. Before you, ummm..."  
  
"Killed them," said Myotismon, his voice matter-of-fact.  
  
Demi Devimon nodded. "Yeah, that's right. Anyhow, they said to say they're not sore at you or anything, and why don't they ever see you?"  
  
Myotismon closed his eyes. It was just like the three of them to make death as banal as a strip mall. "I've been busy with other things, Demi Devimon."  
  
"Yeah, that's what I told them," said Demi Devimon. "You're a busy guy, eh, boss?" He winked.  
  
"Demi Devimon." Myotismon felt weary, even though he was not.  
  
"Yes, boss?"  
  
"Have you always been this annoying?"  
  
Demi Devimon thought about it. "That's what you said."  
  
"I can see that I wasn't wrong about everything, then," said Myotismon. "Well, out with it, then. How are those two?"  
  
"I dunno, boss, " admitted Demi Devimon. "A coupla days ago, they both just disappeared. I think they were reborn, or something."  
  
"A feat which has, until now, eluded me," observed Myotismon. "I wonder why that hasn't happened to you."  
  
Demi Devimon looked baffled, his normal expression. "I dunno, boss. Maybe I'm not done here yet."  
  
Myotismon was surprised. Such insight seemed beyond the little digimon's conniving mind.  
  
"You know, I missed you, boss," said Demi Devimon.  
  
"Why would that be?" asked Myotismon.  
  
"I dunno," admitted the digimon. "Maybe I missed the way you used to yell at me, or do mean things to me after I screwed up. You're not mad at me, are you?"  
  
"No," said Myotismon. "I'm not mad at you." He never really uderstood the way his underlings thought.  
  
Demi Devimon flitted around. "Maybe things will go back to the way they were. You know, before you changed, and got really big, and ummm..."  
  
"Ate you," finished Myotismon.  
  
"Yeah," said Demi Devimon. He looked away, his face forlorn.  
  
Myotismon was mystified. Despite everything he had done to Demi Devimon, Demi Devimon could not be anything but doggedly loyal to him. Even though he had done nothing to deserve it.  
  
Demi Devimon's face brightened again. "But everything's okay now, right? Things'll be the way they used to?"  
  
Myotismon nodded slowly. Nothing would ever be the same. And there was nothing to go back to. But there was no reason to tell Demi Devimon that. He seemed happy.  
  
What? Myotismon was astonished. When had he concerned himself with the feelings of his lackeys? Derision burned in one corner of his mind, harsh words mocking him for his weakness. He ignored it.  
  
"Boss, you okay? You got real quiet." Demi Devimon looked at him.  
  
"I'm fine, Demi Devimon," said Myotismon. He felt immeasurably old, a relic from times now unknown.  
  
Demi Devimon beamed at him, a smile so wide, Myotismon thought the little bat might fall apart in two hemispherical halves. "Oh, boss!" He launched himself at Myotismon.  
  
Myotismon took a step backwards, as Demi Devimon flew into him. wrapping wings around his chest. He heard an odd sound, muffled by the fabric of his tunic.  
  
"I love you, boss," blubbered Demi Devimon, tears streaming from his eyes down his tiny round face.  
  
Myotismon stared down at the digimon now clinging to his chest. One hand rose to Demi Devimon. Not long ago, he would have torn Demi Devimon from his tunic, to fling him off, careless of how it might hurt.  
  
Myotismon couldn't do that. He watched as his hand, seemingly of its own accord, patted Demi Devimon's back, the gesture stiff and clumsy.  
  
A nimbus of rainbow light surrounded Demi Devimon, glistening with tiny spangles of brilliant color. He squeaked in surprise. "Boss, boss! I think it's happening!"  
  
Myotismon could only watch, as Demi Devimon rose, his body glowing and starting to fade.  
  
"G'bye, boss," said Demi Devimon. "I'll be waiting for you." The light grew brighter until Demi Devimon could not be seen. Suddenly it vanished, and Demi Devimon was gone. Myotismon did not move, gazing at the spot where Demi Devimon was, torn between indifference and sorrow. He turned away, refusing to feel anything. Emotions such as grief and loneliness served no purpose. But the sense of loss remained.  
  
"Goodbye, Demi Devimon," said Myotismon, and felt another piece of his soul slip away into the void. 


	4. The Darkness and the Light Part IV

"Hikari. Time for bed."  
  
Kari glanced up from the travel magazine she had been reading with Gatomon. The glossy pages, laden with brilliantly colored photographs of faraway places entranced her. She wanted to be able to take pictures like those. Someday perhaps she would.  
  
"Put away the magazine and turn out the light," came her mother's voice. Kari sighed. Sometimes she thought her mother could see right through walls. "You can read it tomorrow."  
  
Kari dutifully turned out the light, and climbed into her narrow bed. Gatomon was already asleep, her breathing slow and even. As Kari slid beneath the blanket, a thought crossed her mind.  
  
"Mother?" asked Kari, even as drowsiness crept in, her eyelids getting heavier by the second.  
  
"Yes, Kari?"  
  
"Do you think that someday I could have a camera?"  
  
There was a pause. "If it's important to you. We can talk about it in the morning. Now go to sleep."  
  
Kari smiled, turned over, and was asleep.  
  
  
  
Kari sighed, as hands moved deftly over her back, massaging away aches and tension she hadn't even noticed. She burrowed into his side, mouth nuzzling like a newborn, seeking. Fingers traced along her jawline, tilting her chin upward. Her lips parted in surprise, then, only to be covered by another's. Warm and firm, they pressed against hers. Something soft and moist traced the contours of her lips, before slipping into her mouth. Kari froze, even as her body betrayed her, eager for more. No one had ever kissed her like that.  
  
"Open your eyes." A low soft male voice.  
  
Kari obeyed. Until that moment, she was unaware that her eyes were closed. Mocking cold blue eyes met her stunned brown ones. She cried out, and struggled furiously, recognizing her assailant instantly. He laughed at her as she tried to free herself, crimson lips open to reveal fangs sharp as razors. "Do you think that you will ever escape me?"  
  
Kari blanched in terror. "Myotismon."  
  
Myotismon merely nodded. His arms wound around her, imprisoning her tightly. One hand knotted in her hair painfully, jerking her head back, and exposing her throat to him. Kari fought him, even as his greedy mouth drew closer to her tender flesh, tiny fists flailing at him. Her heart raced within her narrow chest, as she felt his breath upon her. She felt nakedly helpless. He drew her close to himself. "Ah, yes. At last, I will have my revenge." She felt his lips touch her throat.  
  
  
  
Kari woke then, body trembling, gasping. A dream, she thought. It was just a dream. Somehow she could not quite convince herself of that.  
  
"Kari?" A soft voice in the darkness.  
  
Kari's head snapped around. She turned to see Gatomon peering up at her, tail moving in restless circles. "Oh, Gatomon. You startled me."  
  
"What's wrong?" Gatomon burrowed back into Kari's side, half asleep. But her eyes, bright blue, never left Kari's face.  
  
Kari shivered, forcing the fear away. "Just a bad dream. It's okay."  
  
Gatomon glanced at Kari's pallid face. Even during the worst moments of her life under Myotismon's mastery, she had never had dreams that bad. Something was wrong. She could feel it, deep inside. But it was too vague, nothing she could put words to. Like the first breath of frost in the fall that presaged the coming of winter, its presence was invisible, yet tangible. A most subtle menace. All she could do was hope that Kari would tell her if things got too bad.  
  
Gatomon yawned, unable to keep her eyes open. Soon warmth and softness lured her back into deep sleep.  
  
Kari watched her friend fall asleep. She was relieved, not wanting to explain the dream she'd just had. The sight and feel of it was all too clear. It was so real.  
  
Just a bad dream. Kari lay back down, eyes open, and unseeing, into the darkness of her room. She raised a tentative hand to touch her lips, now tingling. Somehow she could still feel the press of Myotismon's lips on her mouth, and on her--  
  
Kari knew she was blushing. Her cheeks burned with sudden heat. An odd sensation came over her, like a wild bird trapped within her chest, fluttering frantically.  
  
Methodically she willed her mind to put aside the dream, empty itself of trivial matters. She was tired, and wanted to sleep. It was only a dream. She wanted very much to believe that.  
  
An hour passed before she could relax enough to fall asleep once again.  
  
  
  
Myotismon wandered aimlessly, the night breezes brushing through his hair. He had not had a dream like that since well before his death. Kari's eyes, filled with fear, staring up at him, even as his mouth had covered her throat. Unpleasant memories came with it, vivid images of his many victims. After so long, he had forgotten how many he had killed. Until now, there had been no reason to remember.  
  
Pumpkinmon and Gotsumon. He remembered their faces as he blasted them into oblivion for their foolishness and disobedience. At the end, neither feared him. Even if he did not care for their motives, he respected their conviction. And, in an odd way, he had missed them. So very little remained of what he was--for good or bad. He now understood what it meant that there was something worse than death, and that was to be completely forgotten.  
  
He laughed, feeling no mirth. Kari would surely not forget him. But he did not want to be remembered that way anymore.  
  
  
  
"Kari!"  
  
Kari looked up from the book she was reading. Tai stared at her, leaning against the doorway to her bedroom. "Dinner's ready. Didn't you hear me call you?"  
  
"No," Kari admitted.  
  
"Hey, where's Gatomon?" asked Tai, looking around their room.  
  
"She wanted to see TK and Patamon before she returned to the Digital world, and told me not to wait for her," said Kari.  
  
"Well, yeah," said Tai. "Matt is bringing Gabumon over later." He sauntered out the door. "Come on, then. Dinner's waiting."  
  
Kari stood up. She stretched lazily like a cat, luxuriating in the pleasure it gave. Memory returned, spilling images and sensations into her mind...the velvet soft firmness of lips against hers. She remembered the dream, and blushed vivdly at the recollection of another's touch. So alien, yet familiar. Unwanted, yet... She could not bring herself to admit to wanting such a thing, and that set her off to blushing yet again. Just as well nobody could see her...  
  
"Hey, what's wrong?"  
  
Kari, lost in thought, ran into her brother, who now looked at her, frowning. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Your face is all red. Are you feeling okay?"  
  
Kari turned scarlet all over again. "Ummm...sure, Tai. I...think I might be allergic to something." She put her hand to her face. Not surprisingly, it was hot.  
  
Tai seemed unconvinced. "If there's anything wrong with you, tell someone? I don't want to see you get sick again, like that one time."  
  
Kari nodded. "I promise."  
  
Tai grinned. Kari nodded, her lips curved into a slight fond smile. Being overly serious was never his strong suit anyway. "Hey, race you to the table?"  
  
"Ha! Bet I beat you!" laughed Kari, pushing away the memory. It was, after all, just a dream.  
  
Both dashed down the hall towards the dining room table.  
  
  
  
"Myotismon? Your move."  
  
Myotismon glanced toward the chess board. Wizardmon peered up at him, waiting his turn. Try as he might, he could not achieve the concentration to play properly. Long fingers hovered over alabaster and gold pieces. Finally he made his play, taking one of Wizardmon's pawns with his sole remaining bishop.  
  
"Myotismon, something troubles you. Care to tell me what it is?"  
  
Myotismon glanced up from the chess board he had been staring at, without the slightest trace of comprehension. "Eh? What makes you say that?"  
  
"You may be many things, but one of them is not careless. Usually." Wizardmon gestured toward the chess men. "Unless you were trying to put yourself in check?"  
  
Myotismon glanced over, and sighed. Not only check, but mate in three moves.  
  
"So tell me," said Wizardmon.  
  
"I see no point in doing so," said Myotismon, dismissing his defeat with a flick of his fingers. "Relating my problems to you solves nothing."  
  
"Uh-huh," said Wizardmon, with a low chuckle. "I see. Having bad dreams again, are you?"  
  
Myotismon's eyes narrowed in a cold stare. "And if I am?" There was no reason to pretend otherwise. Here, inside the megalithic mainframe, there were no secrets.  
  
"They disturb you, do they not? Perhaps there is something in them to be learned." Wizardmon deftly set up the chess board again.  
  
"They disturb me because they are disturbing," explained Myotismon, a trace of condescention threading through the words. "They would probably disturb anyone in my circumstances." He despised having to state the obvious. "Or perhaps you know that, too?"  
  
Wizardmon merely grinned. He was too used to Myotismon's haughty ways to let them trouble him. "Truthfully I had not...until now." His bright gray-green eyes sought Myotismon's crystal blue ones. "I never knew you felt that way about her, either. Perhaps people can and do change. It should be interesting to see what happens."  
  
Myotismon was baffled, a fact he did nothing to hide. "Her?"  
  
Wizardmon nodded, even as he put the last piece, the black king, into place. "Kari. One of the Digidestined." His grin widened. "As I recall, you tried your best to kill her, did you not?"  
  
"If I was to rule the real world, as well as the digital world, she had to die." Myotismon shrugged. "Wasn't it enough that she lived and I perished? At the time, her death would simply have been the means to an end. Nothing more."  
  
"No more than that?" said Wizardmon. "Well, time will tell."  
  
The corners of Myotismon's mouth twisted downward. He refused to be baited into asking a question he truly did not want answered. Instead he changed the subject. "When can I expect this resurrection you keep needling me about?"  
  
Wizardmon grew serious. "I am not privy to such knowledge. All that I know is, when the time is right, you will know."  
  
Myotismon became annoyed, as he always did, given the topic. "I have yet to be convinced of the legitimacy of this." He rose from his chair.  
  
"Are you not?" This time, Wizardmon openly laughed. "Soon you will be."  
  
Another bit of cryptic, esoteric wisdom, thought Myotismon wearily, as meaningful as...what did the humans call it? A fortune cookie message.  
  
"Face it, Myotismon," said Wizardmon. Myotismon paused. "What disturbs you more than anything else is the utter lack of control you now have."  
  
Myotismon fell silent. At length he spoke. "Yes, it is," said he, in a rare admission.  
  
With that, he turned and left.  
  
  
  
Myotismon laughed with the voice of a dark god. No...not Myotismon. He was VenomMyotismon now, with enough hunger to devour worlds. King of the Undead, soon to be Emperor of all that existed. Power seethed within his now-giant frame. There was now nothing he could not do. Here, now, the Prophecy no longer mattered.  
  
This time would be different. The ragtag group of children, known to the world as the Digidestined, would not stop him from achieving his desire. How puny and pointless his enemies now seemed, their digimon weak and ineffectual against his might.  
  
With a brush of his hand, buildings collapsed, and power lines snapped and erupted in a shower of brilliant sparks. VenomMyotismon felt countless gigavolts of electricity surge through his hands, no more than a mild tingle.  
  
Ah, his most hated foes. Angemon and Angewomon hovered nearby, radiant beings of utter hypocrisy and self-righteousness. Their mere existence infuriated him. A single backhanded slap knocked them from the air, sent them tumbling to the ground.  
  
From his lofty height, VenomMyotismon looked down to see both Digidestined and their companion digimon, marshalling their strength. It mattered not. Once again, his attention strayed to the eighth child, Hikari. With but a single step, he could crush her out of existence. Never again would his humiliation at her tiny hands plague him. Once the worlds were plunged into eternal darkness, he would cleanse any trace of his shameful defeat.  
  
Kari looked up at him. Across the improbable difference of space and mind, their eyes met, and VenomMyotismon knew a wash of emotions like no other. Astonishment and impotent hatred seethed within him, as the truth slowly dawned. No matter what he did, he could not conquer her. Kari, the Digidestined eighth child, bearing the Crest of Light, who alone stood before him without hate. He could destroy her, but never defeat her.  
  
Fury in a hot crimson wash took possession of him. He brought one monstrous foot down on them, and stamped. He reveled in the raw screams, suddenly cut off, and the brittle snapping of breaking bones, much like treading on dry twigs and branches.  
  
It was done. He was free of her, of them. Free to conquer and ravage. His destiny loomed before him, waiting to be realized. The prize of two worlds to rule lay just beyond his grasp. But VenomMyotismon turned from it.  
  
He was victorious, yes. But it was an pyrrhic victory at best, devoid of satisfaction. The faint sound of humans screaming in terror and grief assailed his ears as he stared down at his new domain, and the bloody smear that had once been eight children. There was nothing left but smoke, rubble and a gnawing emptiness. Comprehension grew within him, as harsh and merciless to him as the light of the sun. He understood all too well, now. True, he had achieved his goal. But it was not truly his anymore.  
  
Her eyes. Even dead as she was, VenomMyotismon realized that he could still see her eyes, clear and sorrowful. The pity in them burned his spirit like acid.  
  
Tears rained down on him from the grim, overcast sky. Something vital was missing, though he could not explain it. Gone forever, and nothing would ever be the same again. He looked up, as the rain beat down on him, cold and unrelenting, and washed him away.  
  
  
  
Myotismon woke, then. His cheeks were oddly wet. With confusion, he wiped away the moisture, feeling the void within him grow ever wider and deeper. Sleep, once his only solace, now gave him no comfort. There was nowhere to go.  
  
No matter. He was still Myotismon. He had to be. Now more than ever before, it was all he had left.  
  
  
  
Kari sat up in bed, so suddenly she nearly catapulted off the mattress. Her heart was pounding in her narrow chest. A terrible dream. She could feel herself even yet being crushed under the monstrous foot. VenomMyotismon's demonic grin lingered in her memory.  
  
As always, Gatomon was there. "Another bad dream?" She curled around Kari, tail idly flicking.  
  
"Yes," gasped Kari, hand pressed to her forehead, as she tried to calm herself.  
  
"Kari, tell me. If it scares you this much, you should tell someone," said Gatomon. "You know how much I care about you, don't you?"  
  
Kari nodded mutely. "It was Myotismon. VenomMyotismon, actually."  
  
"VenomMyotismon! But he's dead!" protested Gatomon. "How can this be?"  
  
"I don't know," admitted Kari. "But every time I go to sleep, he's there! What can this mean?"  
  
Gatomon fell silent, tail lashing back and forth in agitation. "I don't know." She curled up against Kari's shoulder.  
  
Kari snuggled Gatomon, her mind blank.  
  
  
  
Between the idea  
  
And the reality  
  
  
  
An odd feeling came over Kari, as a snatch of verse occurred to her. She recalled it as something she had read once in a literature class.  
  
  
  
Between the motion  
  
And the act  
  
Falls the Shadow  
  
  
  
A poem. Kari remembered it. The Hollow Men. She had to memorize it to recite in class.  
  
  
  
Between the conception  
  
And the creation  
  
  
  
T.S. Eliot. That was the name of the writer. Kari had struggled with that poem. Try as hard as she might to understand it, it never meant anything to her beyond its words.  
  
  
  
Between the emotion  
  
And the response  
  
  
  
Now it was a clue. It had to mean something.  
  
  
  
Falls the Shadow  
  
  
  
It did mean something. Kari understood.  
  
"Between the darkness and the light falls the shadow," said Kari, without thinking. She was startled to hear her own voice. Those weren't the words of the poem. But it made more sense to her now.  
  
"What does that mean?" asked Gatomon, now thoroughly confused.  
  
Kari bit her lip. "It means I have to go back."  
  
  
  
Myotismon stood in darkness, one shadow among many. He stared out at a world now alien to him, every detail limned in painfully harsh brightness. Fatigue pulled at him, blurring his thoughts. In annoyance, he brushed the sensations away, only to have them return.  
  
"Avoiding the situation will avail you naught, Myotismon."  
  
Myotismon's head snapped round at the sound of Wizardmon's voice. "Don't you have anyplace better to go?" The light still bothered him, illogical as that was. "If I am dead, then there is no need to sleep, or to feel tired."  
  
Wizardmon slowly crossed the great hall. "Perhaps old habits die hard, Myotismon." "And perhaps there is something you need to do."  
  
"Just perhaps it is something you don't know anything about," said Myotismon, fingers pressed to his temples. "Do you have nothing better to do?" He moved away from the windows, and into darker shadows. The ragged shreds of his headache slipped away.  
  
"Than to minister to your needs? I think not," said Wizardmon, smiling. "This is far too important a matter to leave to chance."  
  
Myotismon favored Wizardmon with a weary glare. "And because of this, you want to send me to bed, like any disobedient child?"  
  
Wizardmon's eyebrows rose. "I have seen nothing yet capable of making you do something you don't want to. But tell me this." He moved closer, bright grey-green eyes probing Myotismon's crystal blue ones. "Why do you spurn sleep so adamantly?"  
  
Myotismon did not answer. His eyes, half-lidded and uncomprehending, closed.  
  
Wizardmon muttered under his breath, and grabbed Myotismon by the arm. "Come with me."  
  
Myotismon, too tired to protest, followed Wizardmon down to the crypt.  
  
  
  
Gatomon was aghast. "Back? To what?" She stood directly in front of Kari. "And better still, why?"  
  
Kari stopped, eyes wide, filled with visions of things imperceptible. "To do what we always do. We have to save the world."  
  
"But we have saved the world," protested Gatomon, frowning in displeasure. "Twice, now. What more could we do?" Her long pink tail lashed back and forth, restively. "Piedmon and the rest of the Dark Masters have been defeated. What else could there be?"  
  
Kari shrugged, her eyes wide and unfocused. "I don't know. For that matter, I may never know." She rose, and paced slowly. Gatomon looked on, her eyes never leaving Kari's now troubled face. "I can feel it. It's something I have to do, in order to make the right things happen." A small, wan smile turned up the corners of her mouth. "Sometimes even destiny needs help, it seems."  
  
Gatomon was now completely baffled. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I don't know," said Kari. "But it's true. I don't know why or how. You're just going to have to trust me."  
  
Gatomon looked dubious, but said nothing.  
  
Kari picked Gatomon up and hugged the catlike digimon to her small chest. She kissed the furry pink brow. "I'll be fine. You'll see."  
  
Gatomon opened her mouth to speak.  
  
"And I'll call you if I need you," continued Kari, smiling.  
  
"But how did you...?" began Gatomon. She thought about it. "Never mind. After all this time, knowing you as I do? I have no reason to be surprised."  
  
"Well, it was a logical question on your part, and not hard to figure out," admitted Kari, slipping back into bed. She yawned hugely. "Guess I won't have any trouble getting back to sleep."  
  
"No, I suppose not," replied Gatomon, as she settled in beside Kari, curling up. Kari burrowed deeper into the covers. "Gatomon?"  
  
"Yes, Kari."  
  
"Remind me never to take any literature classes again."  
  
Gatomon was confused yet again. Just one of those nights when nothing made sense. "Literature classes?"  
  
"Never mind." 


	5. The Darkness and the Light Part IVa

Myotismon opened his eyes. Another night. The sky was a velvet black sea inlaid with myriad tiny gems. At such times, he could almost forget the gnawing emptiness that grew with every passing second. The night was beautiful, and for the moment, that was enough. Familiar grey stone walls surrounded him. He espied the full moon, serene and silver through the windows, and he smiled. Real or no, it was still his home.  
  
Someone else was there. Myotismon could sense it. He pivoted to look.  
  
Kari again. Myotismon felt searing anger at her intrusion. Here, at least, he should have been safe from them. Once he would have destroyed her without a second thought. Now he simply wished her far away.   
  
  
  
  
Kari's eyes opened. She recognized the grey stone walls at once. It was Myotismon's castle.  
  
A dream. She was dreaming this. But unlike the other time, this time she was ready for anything that might happen.  
  
Footsteps behind her. She turned, resolute to face whatever was there.  
  
  
  
  
Myotismon stared at the tiny form who now stood before him, determination etched on her childish features. "Kari."  
  
"Why am I here, Myotismon?" demanded Kari.  
  
"I have no idea," said Myotismon, "since it was not me who brought you here."  
  
Kari stood in silence, brows knit in confusion. "This doesn't make any sense."  
  
"I agree," said Myotismon, the tone of his voice dry.  
  
Kari looked at Myotismon in growing anger. "You're supposed to be dead. Why can't you leave me alone?"  
  
"I might ask the same of you," snapped Myotismon. "Since you've seen fit to trespass in my home."  
  
"As arrogant as always, aren't you?" sighed Kari.  
  
"And why should I be anything else?" countered Myotismon. "I see no reason to pretend otherwise. Have I ever misled you into believing me the sort of dreary do-gooders you and your friends are?"  
  
"No," admitted Kari. "I really don't know what you are."  
  
Moonlight poured through the window, and Myotismon turned his face toward it. His eyes gazed fixedly upward toward the moon, his face set and expressionless. "Neither do I." His words seemed to hang in the still air.   
  
Kari stared at the tall shadow-enrobed figure who used to fill her with dread. A feeling came over her, utterly overpowering, of melancholy and loss beyond words. She knew she ought to hate the being before her, but she couldn't. Compassion and sadness grew within her, even as she fought to understand it. "Who are you?" she asked.  
  
His face resumed a slight sneer, expression hardening into scorn. Yet there was something different this time. Kari could sense it.  
  
"That question again. As if it mattered, to you or anyone else. Do you think I owe you an answer?" snarled Myotismon, with typical disdain. "Wasn't killing me enough for you?"  
  
"Oh, and you weren't trying to kill everyone else?" snapped Kari. "What were we supposed to do?" She glared at him, furious at his never-ending selfishness.  
  
"Ah, yes," pursued Myotismon smoothly. "You mentioned something about not wanting me to harm innocent people."  
  
"Yes! That's what I told you," said Kari. "Something you could never seem to understand, that people aren't just playthings for you to abuse or destroy!"  
  
"As if I cared in the slightest degree what happens to the teeming masses of pathetic creatures that inhabit the so-called 'real' world. Miserable, worthless, despicable animals." Myotismon snarled silently, brows furrowed deeply in obvious displeasure. He dismissed them all with a careless wave of one aristocratic hand. "I have had enough of this," he grated, his temples throbbing dully.  
  
"You? Had enough of what?!?" cried Kari. "You brought all of this on yourself!"  
  
Myotismon, now seething in anger, forgot himself. "Who do you think you are to speak to me thus?" He crossed his arms, focusing. Both hands began to glow brilliant scarlet. "Crimson Lightn--"  
  
"Knock it off!" yelled Kari. Myotismon, startled into inaction, stared at her, mouth open.   
"All the suffering, and all the misery you caused and you still don't get it!" Kari faced him, arms stiffly by her side, small hands balled tightly into fists. "Just once, I wish you knew how it felt to be those people you hurt, and how wrong you were! Just ONCE!"  
  
"What difference would it make now?", asked Myotismon, his face stony. "It's a little late for that."  
  
Kari stopped dead in her tracks, confused by his terse, emotionless reply. "What do you mean?"  
  
"I am already dead," answered Myotismon, his voice toneless. "Soon enough, I will cease to be. Your troubles are about to end--permanently."  
  
"But how can this be?" asked Kari. "I thought digimon were reincarnated into digi-eggs."  
  
"Apparently not all." Myotismon shrugged, a simple elegant gesture.  
  
  
  
  
Kari fell into troubled silence. There was no doubt that the world was better off when Myotismon died. But annihilation? There was something terribly wrong here.  
  
  
  
  
Myotismon turned, cloak billowing in his wake. A small voice stopped him.  
  
"No--please. Don't go," whispered Kari.  
  
Myotismon looked at her levelly. "I have no reason to stay."  
  
Kari became visibly agitated, her cheeks flushed. "But you have to. If you go now, you'll die."   
  
Myotismon was incredulous, then furious. "What? Why do you care? Isn't this exactly what you want--to see me dead? Again?"  
  
"No!" said Kari, startled by her own vehemence. Her voice lowered. "Not anymore."  
  
"What? Concern for me?" laughed Myotismon. "How touching."  
  
"Everybody needs someone to care about them," whispered Kari, her eyes wide and solemn. "Even people like you."  
  
"You can't expect me to believe you," said Myotismon, staring down at her.  
  
Kari nodded slowly. "You're right. I don't expect you to believe me. But I can hope that you do."  
  
"Why?" asked Myotismon.  
  
"Because you matter. Because it's important." Kari's brows creased, as she visibly struggled to find words. "I don't know why, but it's horribly important." She approached him, small hesitant steps, hands wringing in nervous repetitions. "Even if you don't believe me, please listen to me?"  
  
"It's not as if I have anything critical to do at this point," answered Myotismon, his voice flat and glacial once more. "Proceed."  
  
Kari said nothing. "I really don't know where to begin."  
  
Myotismon nodded.  
  
"You know, I never once hated you," said Kari. "Not after you killed Wizardmon." Her face became serious. "Not even after you tried to kill me."  
  
"A pity I can't say the same." replied Myotismon. "You and those pests managed not only to destroy my ambitions, but to destroy me as well. Can you think of a good reason why I should not despise you utterly?"  
  
"No," answered Kari.  
  
"How refreshing to find someone realistic," sneered Myotismon. "I'm sure that if it had been your brother arguing, he would have tried to force me to believe that it was my duty to like you. Because you had made the attempt to befriend me." The demonic grin widened. "As you can see, I am not honor bound to anything."  
  
"If that's the case, why are you listening to me?" asked Kari.  
  
The tall vampire glanced at her, smile now gone, eyes narrowed. "Perhaps, like you, I want to believe." He turned toward the window, moonlight shining through the panes. "Of course I could merely be trying to save myself, too."  
  
Kari followed him, one tentative step after another. Something about him didn't add up--this demon knight with the face of a fallen angel and the soul of a monster. As she looked on, his image blurred. Another image superimposed itself, like him, and yet not. She blinked, as her vision changed. Her eyes showed one creature, yet her mind's eye saw another. There before her was the digimon she had come to know, the hated monster who would laugh at the death of a child, who would stop at nothing to conquer a world. Her mind envisualized a creature of feeling and compassion, who would befriend another damned soul in the heart of Hell itself. These two had nothing in common. Yet they were the same person.  
  
  
  
  
Myotismon took note of her expression. "Something troubling you?" he asked, voice dry.  
  
Kari nodded. "I just wish I understood you better."  
  
Myotismon listened. His sly smile reappeared. "Do you? Perhaps there is a way."  
  
Kari was wary. "What do you mean?"  
  
"Just answer this. Do you really want to understand me or not?"  
  
There was something in the tone of Myotismon's voice that Kari didn't like. But try as she might, she could not dismiss his words. The only way to accomplish her task was to trust him--somehow.  
  
"Yes," said Kari.  
  
Myotismon stretched forth his arms. "Take my hands, then."  
  
Kari looked up at him, her small face solemn. Then slowly she slipped her small hands into his much larger gloved ones.  
  
Myotismon smiled, lips parting to expose his canines. His hands gripped Kari's tightly then.  
  
Kari gasped as the world unsettled itself. Everything blurred around her. Her body felt alien, distant  
  
"Open your eyes."  
  
Kari did. She looked down at herself.  
  
She was taller now, her figure fully developed. Tentatively, she raised one hand to her bosom. Her breasts still weren't as big as she had once imagined them to be. But she no longer looked like a little girl, and that satisfied her.  
  
Kari's clothing had changed, too. She had been wearing shorts and a tank top. Now she wore a high waisted white gown, slim and close fitting, the material light as gossamer. She saw how little the dress concealed of her newly matured body, and flushed a bright pink.  
  
Myotismon glanced at her, eyes demurely downcast, pale cheeks suffused with color. "You said that you wanted to understand me, Kari. This is not a matter for children."   
  
Kari nodded. A smile flitted across her face, gone so fast, Myotismon wondered if he had imagined it. "Stuff like that cuts both ways, Myotismon."  
  
Myotismon frowned, and glanced down at himself. Gone were the gold braided dark blue tunic and trousers that he normally wore. In their place was a white silk shirt with billowing sleeves, bound at each wrist by a scarlet ribbon, and tight fitting black trousers with scarlet piping down the seams.  
  
Myotismon raised an eyebrow at this. Kari giggled, as her eyes moved over his new appearance. "I like it better."  
  
"I'm sure you do," replied Myotismon, the tone of his voice dry. He raised Kari's hand to his lips.  
  
Kari's blush grew more vivid. "Myotismon!" she gasped.  
  
"Am I so hard to comprehend?" Myotismon pulled Kari closer to himself. "Have you never wanted anything so much that the want completely possessed you? Never hungered so much that you would devour the world if you could?"  
  
Kari was at a loss for words. "No. I never have."  
  
"If you would understand me, it must be all of me, Digidestined. My love, my hate, my ambition." Myotismon encircled Kari in his arms, looking down at her. Despite her adult size, Myotismon easily towered over her. "My desire. My hunger. Do you understand?"  
  
Kari forced herself to remain calm. She really had no idea of what he meant. If she had to free herself, she had only to wake up. Despite the appearance, she was in no danger. "Yes."  
  
Myotismon simply watched her, and waited, as Kari composed herself. "Now look at me," he commanded. Surprised, Kari did. And in that moment, she ceased to be.  
  
  
  
  
She stood apart, haughty and cold. All the digital world lay at her feet, a prize to be taken. And there, just beyond her grasp, the greatest prize of all...Earth, with several billion lives to serve her needs and sate her hunger. The only things that stood between her and her destiny were a handful of human brats and the digimon who allied themselves with the humans.  
  
Thirst. She became aware of a terrible thirst that gripped her, and would not let go. She had never known such a need, so sharp that it cut through her. So demanding that she knew she must inevitably yield to the compulsion to drink from the fountain of life.  
  
  
  
  
Kari became aware of herself once more.   
  
Myotismon looked at her, and waited.   
  
Kari could not reply. She kept her eyes closed, letting the last of Myotismon's monstrous appetite wane. A disturbing need seized her. More than anything, she wanted to strike down the tall brooding figure before her, merely because he stood in her way. She took long, deep even breaths; it passed.  
  
"So now you understand," said Myotismon. His voice was simple, no trace of scorn or anger evident.  
  
"Yes, I see," replied Kari, her voice as toneless as his. She opened her eyes and turned to face him, no longer a child or completely human.  
  
Myotismon read her expression easily. Here now was someone his equal. No longer a foe, but a potent ally. He saw now, as he could never have before, how the very oppositeness of their natures brought them so close together. She stood before him, neither good or evil, but stern and unyielding as a naked sword. A fitting weapon, waiting to be wielded by him. Myotismon found her irresistible.  
  
"Myotismon." Kari's voice filled the chamber, low and impassioned. Myotismon bent to her, as she moulded herself to him, awaiting his kiss. An odd smile curved her mouth upward. She turned her face away, proffering her smooth white throat to him. Myotismon savored the moment, finding her newfound passion a heady pleasure of its own.  
  
Myotismon paused, his lips hovering over Kari's throat. Something was wrong. Kari did not move, her expression empty but for that smile. He looked into Kari's eyes, and saw nothing but a reflection of himself. She had become him, and everything she now felt was a pale imitation of his own nature. Even her smile was only his habitual smirk on her lips. No matter how much she seemed to want him, her desire was not truly her own, but what he wished her to feel.   
  
  
  
  
Myotismon, repulsed by what he had almost done, felt his hunger wane, becoming cold distaste. He bent down to Kari again, this time merely to press his lips against her upturned mouth. He released her, and stepped away from her, a child once more, dressed in simple play clothes. His mind waged war against itself. "Fool!" came the voice. "After waiting so long to taste vengeance, you do nothing but stare at her like a moon-struck calf! You, the King of the Digital world, utterly besotted by a mere human brat! Have you gone mad?"  
  
Myotismon knew the voice well--it was his own, not so very long ago. "Perhaps I have," answered Myotismon. "But I am not answerable to you or anyone else. My actions are for me alone to judge."   
  
"Destroy this puny human," sneered the voice. "She and all humans are your rightful prey."  
  
"No," answered Myotismon. "Not anymore."  
  
"Weakling! Miserable incompetent! Why do you delay? Kill the girl and be done with it!"  
  
"I will not," said Myotismon. "There is no reason to harm her."  
  
"Idiot! Imbecile!" raged the voice. "Why aren't you listening to me? Why do you fail me?"  
  
"Because it's wrong," answered Myotismon.  
  
  
  
  
Kari watched in confusion as Myotismon backed away from her, his eyes fixed on her still, but unseeing. His form shimmered and blurred, garbed once again in the dark blue military tunic. Myotismon's face tightened into the hateful smile that still had the power to make her shudder. Then his expression changed again, clothing melting to reform itself into a silk shirt and pair of trousers once again. This Myotismon's expression was different. Gone was the smirk. Here was only a face lined with weariness and eyes too empty of emotion to see.  
  
Myotismon's body took on a hazy glow. Within the shimmering light, Myotismon's body seemed to be spreading, separating into two creatures.  
  
Kari knew she had to do something, and fast. The white-shirted Myotismon was in danger from his evil self. She had to separate them--now. But how?  
  
Kari felt warmth rise within her, surrounding her. Instinct now guided her, directing her actions. She reached one hand toward Myotismon, her hand glowing. The glow intensified as her hand neared Myotismon's.   
  
Her hand touched Myotismon's hand. There was a blinding flash of light, as Myotismon screamed. The figure shivered and splintered into two Myotismons, one clad in dark blue, the other in black and white. The force of separation knocked both Myotismons from their feet, sending them flying in opposite directions.  
  
  
  
  
Kari ran toward the white-shirted Myotismon, who was the nearer of the two.  
  
  
  
  
"At last I am free of you," said the Myotismon in blue, laughing as he rose to his feet. "Soon I will be rid of you forever."  
  
"Would you stake your life on that?" asked the Myotismon in white, struggling to stand. "I don't think you have the strength to do anything to me right now." He stared at his diabolic alter ego.  
  
The Myotismon in blue stared at him, cold blue eyes narrowed. "I see." He drew himself to his full height. "Then so be it. I choose not to waste time with a worthless craven wretch such as yourself. My destiny awaits elsewhere." Pivoting on one heel, cloak flying behind him, he vanished into the shadows.  
  
The Myotismon who remained staggered, a wash of weakness passing through him. Kari moved to his side, steadying him. "Myotismon!"  
  
"No," said the being. "I am that no longer."  
  
"What happened?" cried Kari. "Who are you?"  
  
"I don't know," said the man who once was Myotismon. "I don't remember anything. Not before--" His voice trailed off.  
  
"Before what?" asked Kari.  
  
"Before I met you. When you told me that you could not allow me to hurt innocent people," said the new digimon. "I remember nothing before that."  
  
"I remember that day," said Kari. "But what does that mean?"  
  
"Even the most hateful of monsters may shelter within its heart some small essence of kindness," the new digimon answered. "Myotismon was such a creature."  
  
"But why...?" Kari was now confused. "How...did I...?"  
  
The digimon smiled. "You awakened me."  
  
Kari thought about it, then slowly nodded. "But what's your name?"  
  
"For the moment, I have no name," said the digimon. "My place is not here any longer."  
  
"Kari." A woman's voice spoke.  
  
Kari turned her head. Angewomon now stood beside her, gleaming white wings outstretched. She faced the digimon who wore Myotismon's face.  
  
"Angewomon!" said Kari. "Why are you here?"  
  
"I was summoned to this place, as were you. Because even destiny needs help, as you said," said Angewomon, furling her wings. "Your words were prophetic."  
  
Kari blushed.  
  
Angewomon continued. "Kari, your kindness helped to create this digimon. Now it is time for him to fulfill his destiny. Will you help him do that?"  
  
Kari looked at Angewomon, then at the other. "I--yes, I will."  
  
Angewomon glanced at the new digimon. "And you, who were once Myotismon. Your path ahead will be difficult, and the obstacles you face many. Do you wish a simpler, less dangerous destiny to fulfill?"  
  
The digimon was puzzled. "Do I have a choice?"  
  
Angewomon nodded. "Yes. In rejecting evil, you have earned the right to choose."  
  
"No, it is a worthy task," answered the digimon. "I cannot do less."  
  
Angewomon looked at him. "As Myotismon, your sins were pride and arrogance. Will you accept the punishment for this?"  
  
"Yes." The answer came without hesitation. "I will repay my debt, if it lies within my power."  
  
"It does." The tall angel seemed satisfied with his answer.  
  
"But it's not fair," protested Kari. "He didn't do any of the bad things Myotismon did. Why should he have to be the one to get punished?"  
  
"His punishment will not be what you think, Kari," said Angewomon. "In the process of atoning his sins, he will have the opportunity to learn just why his misdeeds were wrong, and to correct his behavior so that they will never happen again. Punishment is meaningless without the chance to learn and change."  
  
"Well--" began Kari. "I suppose so. All right." Her face was troubled. "But how can I help him? I don't know what to do."  
  
The celestial digimon spoke. "Do what is in your heart, Kari. Your heart has always been your wisest counsel, and it will show you the way."  
  
Kari listened. She understood, and then she knew what to do. It was simple. The crest she wore on a chain around her neck shone brightly, radiant as a star.  
  
"I said that I never hated you for what you did," said Kari. "But I was mad at you for the longest time. For killing Wizardmon. For putting so many people in danger. My parents, my brother, my friends. Everyone I knew. You tried to kill us all. Anyone else would say that I had the right to be angry."  
  
The digimon who had been Myotismon said nothing, his head bowed.  
  
"But things have changed," continued Kari. "Mostly because you have changed. I can't be angry at you anymore. I understand now. The only thing standing between you and reincarnation is--"  
  
"--is the need to be forgiven," came a voice from the shadows. Wizardmon stepped forward into the light.   
  
"Wizardmon!" cried Kari, in surprise.  
  
"Kari." The short digimon nodded to Kari, his face hidden. Only his eyes showed, bright grey-green. "He does not have to ask for my forgiveness, since I have already granted it to him. But you, Kari, the one he wronged the most. It is not enough that you no longer feel anger toward him. Can you forgive him?"  
  
Kari looked at the digimon who had been the most evil creature she had ever known. She remembered fear, the fear that she might never see her brother alive again. Memories of that time came back. She remembered Wizardmon's murder at Myotismon's hands, and the rage and grief she felt at the death of a friend known too briefly, lost too soon. No matter what this new creature did, the evil could never be undone. Yes, she remembered evil.  
  
But this was not Myotismon anymore, not the monster she knew. This being would feel what the other could not, remorse and contrition. She could feel nothing for him but compassion, and understood then that he would need it. What was it that the Americans called it? 'A tough row to hoe.' That was it.  
  
"Yes," said Kari. 


	6. The Darkness and the Light Part IVb

The new digimon touched Kari's cheek.  
  
Kari nodded, her eyes never leaving his face. She had never noticed how beautiful his eyes were, now that they were no longer filled with hate.  
  
"Thank you, Kari. I will never forget this." The tall digimon smiled down at Kari.  
  
"I'm afraid you'll have to," came a voice well-known to them all." Gennai now stood beside Wizardmon, his wizened face more sober than usual. "If you are allowed to remember, it could jeopardize everything."  
  
"What could possibly be so important?" asked the new digimon.  
  
"The end of the world," said Gennai, the tone of his voice matter-of- fact.  
  
There was a universal gasp of shock. Only Wizardmon showed no surprise.  
  
Gennai continued. "The fate of two worlds depends on a critical sequence of events. If those events are altered in the slightest, the results could be disastrous." He peered up at the new digimon. "You, there. The one who used to be Myotismon. You're pivotal to this, you know."  
  
The digimon was stunned. "How does my knowing my past affect the future? Why should it matter to anything?"  
  
"Very well. Since you insist on knowing, let me explain," said Gennai. "If you remember nothing of this night, all all that transpired, the future will continue on its course. But--" Gennai sighed, and went on. "But if you remember all this, and know that what you decide to do may affect the future for the worse, you will begin to second-guess yourself. Rather than automatically doing the right thing, you may end up doing the wrong thing altogether. Because sometimes the right thing to do, at any given time, may prove to be the wrong thing well after the fact. Can you see all possibilities, and can you automatically know what is right and wrong?"  
  
"But how could you know this?" said Kari. "What if you're wrong?"  
  
Gennai was unperturbed. "Kari, you already know the answer to your question. Have I ever been wrong yet?"  
  
Kari and the others fell silent. "No, sir," said Kari.  
  
"There is something else you should know," said Gennai, and for the first time, he smiled. "If the chain of events led to a world where both humans and digimon could live in harmony, would you not wish this?" He pointed to Angewomon. "Kari, what would you do to ensure that you and Gatomon could be together always?"  
  
Kari's jaw dropped. Angewomon was astonished.  
  
"If all it took to accomplish this would be to forget something you have no need to remember, would you do it?" asked Gennai.  
  
"Gennai, is this really possible?" Angewomon asked. The normally distant digimon was visibly excited at the prospect.  
  
"Yes," said Gennai in irritation. "Why would I make this up?"  
  
"I don't think anyone is trying to imply that you are, Gennai," said Wizardmon. "Only that it's impossible to see how you reached such a conclusion. How is it that you know so much about this?"  
  
"I am caretaker to the digital world, and integral to the system. Why shouldn't I know?" asked Gennai. "But I am not the only one to know this. Kari knew, even though she didn't understand. The young lady is quite gifted in such matters."  
  
"Thank you," said Kari, and blushed yet again.  
  
Gennai merely nodded in response. "Be that as it may. What matters most is not what has happened, but what will happen. Do you have the courage to let things be, to face the unknown as the unknown, and know that things will work out for the best?  
  
Kari and Angewomon exchanged glances. The new digimon was silent.  
  
"We agree," said Kari.  
  
Gennai turned to the nameless digimon. "And you. Do you agree to this?"  
  
"I do," said the digimon. "I would have hoped..." He looked at Kari, and fell silent.  
  
"Someday, perhaps, when this is done," said Gennai, "the truth will revealed to all. Then you may repay your debt of gratitude to her, if you wish. For now, it must be as if this night had never happened," said Gennai. "Soon you will meet another, someone who needs you more than he or you can possibly imagine. And that is all I am going to say on the matter. You will not remember what I told you."  
  
"I know," said the new digimon, both his face and voice devoid of emotion.  
  
"The future will be filled with more marvels than any of you could possibly imagine...yes, even you, Kari," said Gennai, chuckling. "I don't want to spoil the surprise."  
  
He beckoned the nameless digimon to his side. "Well, then. Enough chatter. Are you ready?"  
  
"Not quite," said the digimon. "There is one last thing."  
  
"Yes, yes, all right," snapped Gennai. "But get on with it!"  
  
No one was deceived by Gennai's outburst. He beamed as brightly as the sun, an enormous grin splitting his face, showing one tooth.  
  
The digimon knelt before Kari. "I would have done more for you, after what you've done for me, but I cannot." He removed a scarlet silk ribbon from his shirt. "It isn't enough. Nothing ever could be. But I want you to have it anyway."  
  
Kari took the ribbon, touching the glossy fabric with gentle fingertips. "Thank you," she whispered.  
  
The digimon's form began to glow, his form becoming indistinct as the brightness grew. Tiny spangles of light filled the air surrounding him. "Goodbye, Kari."  
  
"We will meet again," said Kari. She felt his smile, a warm, comforting expression. Then he was gone.  
  
"I think it's time to go home."  
  
Kari heard a familiar voice, looked down, and saw Gatomon now standing by her side. "Yes, I think you're right." Dream or no, she felt immeasurably tired.  
  
The small pink catlike digimon turned to Wizardmon. "Wizardmon, my old friend. Will I ever see you again?" Her voice was sad.  
  
"Look for me," answered Wizardmon. He bent down to wipe one glistening drop from Gatomon's cheek. "I believe we are destined to be together again."  
  
Gatomon smiled. "I can only hope so."  
  
Wizardmon straightened, and spoke to Gennai. "It is time for me to leave. My task is finished, and I am no longer needed here."  
  
Gennai peered at him from under bushy brows. "You know what to do."  
  
Wizardmon nodded. "Yes." He turned to Kari and Gatomon, who stood to one side, listening. "Until then." He raised one hand. "See you around."  
  
"Goodbye, Wizardmon," said Gatomon, her luminous blue eyes never leaving Wizardmon's face as he vanished into a cloud of digital data that rapidly dispersed.  
  
"What happened to Wizardmon?" cried Kari.  
  
"What you two saw," answered Gennai, "was no more than a part of him, whose sole mission was to ensure Myotismon's safety. Now that the future history of both humans and digimon has been firmly established, and set on the proper course, that part of him became free to integrate with the whole." Gennai seemed satisfied by the turn of events. "And, of course he, too, will remember nothing of this." His attention strayed to Myotismon's castle. "Remarkable workmanship..." he muttered. "Wonderful masonry..."  
  
Kari and Gatomon stared at him.  
  
Gennai seemed oblivious to them both, silent for the longest time. "Now, does that satisfy your need for closure, Miss Kamiya?" His eyes never left the stonework.  
  
Kari couldn't think of a thing to say. "Yes, sir."  
  
Gennai smiled again. "Kari."  
  
Kari glanced back. "Yes?"  
  
"You are going to be a lovely young woman in time."  
  
Kari flushed vividly again. "T-thank you, Gennai." She smiled, and everything faded away.  
  
  
  
Kari woke then. She'd had such a vivid dream. Gennai...  
  
It was gone. Nothing remained but the image of Gennai, and the sensation of rightness. Kari yawned and stretched. Odd. She could clearly recall all the nightmares of Myotismon she'd been having, but not a thing of the dream she had just woken from. Well, life was like that sometimes.  
  
"Kari..." Gatomon sat up, rubbing her eyes. "I had the strangest dream about..." She blinked. "Hey, I can't remember."  
  
"About Gennai?" offered Kari.  
  
Gatomon looked surprised. "How did you know?"  
  
"I had a dream just like that," said Kari.  
  
"Then do you--?"  
  
"No, I don't remember anything either," answered Kari. "I think we're not supposed to."  
  
"But why?" Gatomon puzzled over this. "What could be so important?"  
  
"I don't know," said Kari, sitting up. "The end of the world, maybe?"  
  
Gatomon opened her mouth to protest.  
  
"And it's not impossible. Look at everything we've done so far."  
  
"Well...no," admitted Gatomon.  
  
"And if that's what it's about," said Kari, "maybe we're better off not remembering."  
  
Gatomon nodded slowly, but doubt remained. Kari saw it, and hugged Gatomon. "Right now, I'm not worried about anything. I believe the future will take care of itself."  
  
Gatomon snuggled against Kari. She saw something slip from Kari's fingers. "Kari, what's that?"  
  
"Mmm?" Kari looked down. There, spilled across the blanket, was a length of crimson silk satin ribbon.  
  
"Where did it come from?"  
  
"I don't know." Kari picked the ribbon up. It was soft and slick to the touch, so smooth was it. An image lurked in her subconscious. Blue eyes...  
  
Kari shook her head. Try as she might, she could not get the image to form completely.  
  
Gatomon thought about it. "Maybe it was a gift from somebody."  
  
"Maybe so," said Kari absently. The image was gone. Kari smiled and hugged the ribbon.  
  
Gatomon nudged Kari. "Are you okay?"  
  
Kari nodded. "I'm fine, Gatomon. Everything's going to be okay." She smiled. "You'll see."  
  
"You know I have to go back soon," said Gatomon. Her expression was wistful. "I wish we could be together all the time."  
  
Kari glanced back at the satin ribbon. "Maybe we will."  
  
From the hall, a voice bellowed. "Kari, breakfast is ready!"  
  
Kari shook her head. "Boy, is your brother loud," commented Gatomon.  
  
"That he is," answered Kari. "Come on, let's go." 


End file.
